


Sometimes You Get What You Need

by sinoftheday (itsthedetails)



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-11
Updated: 2007-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:19:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsthedetails/pseuds/sinoftheday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan's had a rough day and needs a release.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes You Get What You Need

Water rushes over the back of Logan’s neck, streaming down his shoulder blades. He still feels dirty—filthy—despite having scrubbed his skin raw. His head is bowed, his eyes clenched shut. His fist tightens into an angry ball; he slams it into the smooth tile. Today has been one of those days... that makes him want to pack up and move some place new, to start over.

***

 _He sits stiffly in the waiting room of the attorney’s office. The big black leather couch does nothing to ease the tension thrumming through his body. The meeting should have started almost forty minutes ago, yet he hasn’t seen hide nor hair of Lavoie, the last of his late father's big-time, big-shot, big-fee attorneys._

 _Over and back, he pushes the stack of magazines on the end table, rearranging them as, once again, the receptionist smiles politely in his direction. He’s going to give this guy five more minutes, and then Logan's out the door. Who cares if this is the first date they’ve all been able to agree upon? Aaron’s been dead two months, his “assets,” as Lavoie refers to them, aren’t going anywhere._

 _He thinks, ‘screw this’ and pushes off the couch. As he does, Lavoie suddenly appears from behind the frosted glass door Logan’s been staring at for almost an hour. At the same time, Trina breezes in; a perfectly timed moment. They must share the same sense of Hollywood dramatics._

 _The group stands frozen in a three-way stare, until Lavoie gestures to the door and they follow him to a small conference room._

 _Once they’re settled around the table, and Trina has her Pellegrino with half a lemon and half a lime twist, Lavoie clears his throat. If he couldn’t already tell from the length of time it took to get this meeting organized, Logan now knows both Lavoie and Trina are going to drag out the process as long as they can._

 _Lavoie starts, explaining an independent accounting firm has gone over Aaron’s assets. Any outstanding debts have been paid, and all his tangible assets have been accounted for and appraised._

 _He flips through a sheaf of paper at least half an inch thick. “This is your father’s last will and testament. This is the most recent version, the one he made when he entered prison. There is a section pertaining to each of you. I’ll skip to the parts that pertain to both of you.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “There are several donations to various charities which will be made from the estate, as well as the endowment that is allotted each year to your father’s foundation.”_

 _Logan snorts and rolls his eyes. Aaron always was one to put up a good front. Even in death, he'd had to make sure his public continued to regard him as some sort of modern day god. Logan wouldn’t be surprised if Aaron’s “foundation” had siphoned the money right back into one of Aaron’s off-shore accounts._

 _Lavoie looks up in annoyance, disliking the interruption to his performance. That’s all this is—a performance. Lavoie is ten times the actor Aaron was._ He _should have been the star of_ The Long Haul _, or any of Aaron’s other crap piles, maybe they wouldn’t have been such suckfests._

 _Appeasing the man, Logan smiles tightly in apology, and Lavoie continues._

 _“The balance of the estate, including all bank accounts, all properties and all tangible assets, are to be spilt evenly between Aaron’s two adult children, Trina Echolls and Logan Echolls.” Lavoie pauses again, looks first at Trina, then Logan. There is a wicked glint in his eye, and Logan knows whatever bomb Lavoie is about to drop is going to be big. “All intangible assets, including copyrights, the Aaron Echolls name, all royalties and all future earnings, are to be left to his ... son, Logan Echolls.”_

 _In shock, Logan’s head pops up like a jack-in-the-box; Trina’s up on her feet, squawking like a bird, before Lavoie can even close his mouth. Before Logan can even really process the whole thing, she’s screaming, “What!_ He _gets all that! This is ridiculous—”_

 _Logan tunes out Trina’s ranting and looks over at Lavoie, who is grinning at him. He knows as well as Logan that Aaron got to him, even in death. Cutting Logan off, and leaving him with nothing, wouldn’t have fazed him. In fact Logan had almost hoped Aaron would, so Logan could fade into the background. That way, no one would bother,_ gasp _poor Logan Echolls, except on big anniversaries and the like._

 _But this? Now, anytime anyone might want to use Aaron’s name, his likeness they’ll have to go through Logan. For years and years to come, he’ll be hounded by the media, shows like_ Tinsletown Diaries _, and all the wannabe directors and producers who’ll want to turn Aaron’s sham of a life, and his mysterious death into a big screen film._

 _Not to mention, once Trina blows through her cash, and she will, no matter how much she actually gets, she’ll be knocking on his door every other week for more money._

 _He’ll never get away from her or the limelight, and all he desperately wants is to be left alone. Aaron found the one thing which would ensure that, for the rest of Logan's life, he’ll always be reminded he’s Aaron Echolls son. He could change his name to Mumbaba and live in the rainforests of South America, and he’d still have to deal with approving or vetoing the daily, weekly, monthly requests that’ll forever follow Aaron Echolls' name._

 _He stands, ignoring Trina’s hysterics, tells Lavoie to send all the paperwork to his attorney’s office, and walks out without a second look back._

***

The water goes cold, and he twists the knob to turn it off. He remains in the shower, dripping water and shivering. He’d been so lost in his thoughts; he jumps in surprise when Veronica’s small hand lays flat on his hunched shoulder. She is naked and beautiful and standing behind him. Her arms circle his waist, locking at his belly, and she presses her cheek to the middle of his back. He can feel the small puffs of her warm breath tickling his wet, bare skin. “I was looking for a little wild water fun, but I see you’ve already taken your shower.”

She’s trying to cheer him up, ease his hurt, but he’s not hurt. He’s angry, full of rage, and he wants to let it all pour out of him, but not at her, never at her. Since she returned from New York, he hasn’t felt the need to break things, to hurt people, to make everyone feel as bad as he does, and he doesn’t want to start again, especially not with Veronica.

His muscles tighten; he knows she can feel his tension ratchet higher. She slides the shower door all the way open and tugs on his arm. “Come on, I skipped out on take out from Luigi’s for a little fun with you, and I don’t give up manicotti for just anybody.”

He lets himself be pulled from the shower, but as she begins to trail her tiny fingers up his forearms, tickling his ribs with her other hand, he jerks back, pushing her hands away.

The brief look of rejection sailing across her face has him regretting his knee-jerk reaction, but it really isn’t the time for this. Right now, he can’t be gentle with her, can’t take the time to make it all about her, and he’d only end up screwing things up. He softens his voice, staring into her eyes to try to alleviate her insecurities. “I don’t think we should. Not right now. Today sucked and I don’t want to hurt you.”

It's definitely the wrong thing to say. Apparently, she's taken it as a challenge; he recognizes the determination in her eyes. She curls her fingers into his hips and presses up on her toes to get a better angle to gaze fiercely into his eyes. “I can handle a little roughness. I’m not gonna break.”

He keeps his distance, torn between giving in, giving her what she’s asking for, and being upset that she’d let herself be an outlet for his anger. “No, Veronica. I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

She smiles coyly. “I know that, and I know you won’t hurt me. You just need something fast and hard and—who says I don’t need it too?” She steps closer and pushes him forcibly up against the bathroom counter, flattening her body on his. She kisses him roughly, biting at his lips and digging her fingers into his shoulders, murmuring, "C'mon, Logan, I want you to...."

His brain may be screaming it isn’t right, but his body is screaming for release. He grabs and twirls her before shoving her hips against the countertop. His eyes meet hers in the mirror. His mouth hovers near her ear. “You want it fast and hard, do you? Well you got it.”

He bits down on the creamy flesh connecting neck to shoulder, and skates his finger up the inside of her thigh. She’s already wet for him; his fingers slide easily around her opening and over her clit.

She groans, her head tumbling back on his shoulder. She spreads her legs wider to make room for him, and he slips a finger inside her, pressing and twisting harshly. He works her over with his fingers, frenetically rubbing her clit, then pushing up inside of her.

Her head rocks side to side and she chafes against his fingers, begging him to hurry up. He licks up her throat, turns her head to fiercely kiss her mouth before wrapping his hand on the back of her neck and shoving her head down. She braces her hands on the counter, her falling hair hiding her face. He strokes his cock with one hand, and pushes it between her thighs, slicking his dick in her juices. He thrusts hard, his cock sliding into the cleft of her ass.

She whimpers, shudders, and presses her bottom against him. A glint flares in his eye, and she lifts her head to meet his mirrored gaze. He watches her sweat glistened face as he trails a hand down her side, gliding over her hip, then over her ass. He works a finger in between her cheeks, circling her hole with one finger tip.

She groans, and he whispers in her ear, “You like that, don’t you?” He punctuates his question by biting at her earlobe. She mewls loudly, the sound echoing in the tiled bathroom.

"Oh, God, yes."

His slicked finger works inside the tight ring of muscle. Fondling her, he teases a bit, and then presses harder. His finger twists inside of her, opening her so she can take him in.

She grips the edge of the counter, bends over further. Her eyes are dark, sapphire blue and wild, and he can tell she’s finding it hard to focus. Her voice is raspy, like she’s swallowed glass. “Logan, please.”

He slides his fingers out and strokes his cock once more before nudging the head to her ass. Bright with desire, her eyes suddenly snap to his. “Do it, Logan,” she begs.

He flexes his hips and pushes into her, only the head at first, but even that's enough to make him pant, his fingers gripping tighter onto her hips.

Chest heaving, she keens, eases back with a relentless push. He thrusts up until he’s fully inside, stroking hard and deep, sweat from his chest dripping onto her back. Her ass spreads around his dick, and he can’t help but be mesmerized by the sight. He can’t stop, and ruts into her harshly. She tightens around him, but when he slips his hand around to rub her clit, she contracts hard enough to leave him gasping.

Over and over, he strokes her clit until she cries out, shaking and shuddering as she comes. She bucks backward, around his cock, and his back bows in a perfect curve as he fills her with wet warmth. He collapses on top of her, both pairs of hands braced on the countertop, elbows shaking.

All of his earlier tension has seeped away, and the only thing he can think about is the gorgeous girl beneath him, willing to do anything for him.


End file.
